Sparks Fly
by salanderjade
Summary: Little moments for Peeta and Katniss inspired by various songs. Some fluff while others will be not so fluffy. Read and review if it pleases you.
1. Chapter 1

Sparks Fly

Inspiration: "Glitter in the Air" performed by the wonderful Pink

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I don't own Glitter in the Air. I have an admiration for both and for the women who brought them to life.

THE BEGINNING

_Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?  
Closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted?  
Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?  
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don't care?_

It was one of my bad days when all I could see was the faces of those I had lost. Everyone who had ever died for or because of me moved in about me in an endless parade and I was helpless to stop it. I found myself in the closet where all the clothes hung that he made for me. Beautiful Cinna. My friend and my confidant in the Capital during the worst times, he gave me the courage to hold my head high. Now all that is left are these bits of thread and cloth that hang forgotten. It hurts to look at them and remember. It hurts even more when I realize that I'm forgetting. Cinna's hands, Prim's eyes, Finnick's smile. These small bits of those that I've lost, that is all I have to cling to and they are slowly slipping away piece by piece. My hand clinches on the nearest dress, a silvery smoky beaded sheath that I have never worn. Cinna showed it to me right before the Victory Tour. He said the glitter reminded him of my eyes. Before I realize what's happening, I'm tearing into the fragile gown and the beads are falling and flying around me. I don't realize I'm screaming until a pair of strong hands reach in and pull me out. Blindly, I strike out and feel my hand hit solid flesh. The resulting grunt breaks something loose inside me and I begin to flail, kicking and punching everything in reach. I feel myself being lifted and carefully carried to the bed. My arms are gently restrained and a powerful leg intertwines with mine to stay any further movement. A hand moves soothingly through my loosened hair and a soft whisper comforts me, "Hush now, I'm here. You don't have to be afraid anymore. I've got you." I let the warmth drag me down; let myself relax against a familiar form. I know the nightmares will be there waiting for me once I surrender to sleep, but right now I can't make myself care. So I close my eyes and snuggle closer, falling asleep to quiet murmurs and the scent of cinnamon and sugar.

_Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?  
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone.  
Have you ever been touched so gently you have to cry?  
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?_

I've been back in District Twelve for months with only Haymitch to keep me company. He tries to help but he's just as broken as I am. He has his own demons and battles. He can't be blamed for not being able to fight mine. There is one who could have held me together but that's not possible anymore. I left what remained of him in the Capital. I tried to end it; tried to follow in Prim's footsteps but he wouldn't let me. His hand on mine tethered me here and now I'm left with the shattered remains of a life that no longer works. I've asked Haymitch about him, hoping for the slightest bit of news that will prove he's coming back. Like the dandelion after the cold depths of winter, he will bloom again and be my Boy with the Bread. My hope amid the darkness. The one good thing that I can depend on when everything else falls apart. Haymitch shrugs and gives me a noncommittal grunt whenever I bring up his name. I think he doesn't want to get my hopes up. He doesn't know that hope is lying somewhere in a Capital hospital and without it I am lost.

I hear digging outside my window and think for a minute that my nightmare has finally come to claim me. Everyone I love is gone, burnt to ashes or cut to pieces on painted Capital streets. They stand over me and fling ashes in my face, choking and burying me no matter how much I beg. I wake up disoriented, the sound of the shovel still ringing in my ears. I realize that it's coming from outside and stumble downstairs to confront this demon. If I can do this, then maybe at last I can find peace. I swing open the door and see them. Five bedraggled bushes in a wheelbarrow, the flowers pale pink against the jewel toned green of the leaves. I see a familiar form leaning on a shovel, his blue eyes hesitant as they find mine in the gray morning light. "I got them in the woods for her," he says hesitantly. "I thought we could plant them by the house." I can only nod and flee back into the house before the tears start falling. He's here. He's come back. The thoughts keep circling through my head over and over. I collapse just inside the door, my arms hugging my knees as I bury my face against them. I hear a gentle knocking and a soft whisper, "Katniss, can I come in please?" I scoot over and reach up to open the knob. His heavy tread enters and he kneels down beside me, a gentle hand softly brushing my tousled hair away from my face. I feel tears slide down at the remembered tenderness of his touch and look up into eyes the color of a warm summer sky. They aren't as open and guileless as they once were. They are shadowed and haunted now. They're not the eyes I remember but they are close enough. He's come home.

_There you are, sitting in the garden_

_Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar_

_You called me sugar._

The garden is my favorite place to be after the woods of course. Peeta has long since taken over the care and maintenance of the multitude of plants that he has nurtured and coaxed into brilliant colorful life. I had only two requests when he mentioned turning our back yard into the myriad of color and scents. The first was that no roses beyond the original primrose bushes be planted. The second was for a tiny table to be situated underneath the archway he had placed in a shaded corner of the yard. He had diligently coaxed ivy to climb the trestle and the result was a dappled hideaway which afforded stunning views of the multicolored beds and pathways. This morning when I make my way into the yard, I find that he has been there before me and anticipated my wants as usual. A plate holding a warm crusty cheese bun sits majestically in front of my usual chair. A cup of thick frothy hot chocolate accompanies it. A pitcher of the sweet-smelling mixture along with a tray holding a few more of the tempting pastries set in the middle of the table should I require more. I sit down and help myself, smiling at his thoughtful gesture. He does it without pretense or expectation. He just wants to make me happy. That warms me more than the pastry and chocolate ever could.

_Have you ever wished for an endless night?  
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?  
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself  
Will it ever get better than tonight? Tonight. _

The fire burns down low and golden in the grate. I sit in front of it and wait for him to return home from the bakery. His days are long and arduous since the bakery has been rebuilt. It was always a cornerstone of the community of District 12. Now he has to run it alone with the part time help of some barely trained workers. He seldom gets home before the sun goes down. Many nights he manages to eat a few bites of a lukewarm supper then drags himself to bed. I help as much as I can, knowing that he is satisfied with my being there. It takes so very little to make him happy. He gives so much and expects so little in return. It is the smallest gestures from me that mean the most to him. Knowing that, I make sure to do something every day to remind him of what he means to me.

I hear his heavy tread on the porch and quickly glance over my preparations to make sure that everything is in place. The tray with the two perfect slices of a thick hearty loaf and a small pat of butter sits before me on the table. The fire is lit and waiting, its warmth a nice contrast to the cool outside air. I'm wearing one of the dresses that Cinna made for me so long ago. This one isn't made for the Capital outings like the others. This one, I think, was made specifically for me and this moment. I smile, feeling tears sting my eyes at the thought of my friend who understood me better than anyone. He always expected that it would come to this. Somehow, he knew.

He comes in and I can see the fatigue clinging to him like a blanket. Still, when he catches sight of me a slow, loving smile appears on his face. "Why are you sitting in the dark?" He questions lightly. His gaze falls on the tray and my dress and he stops, mouth gaping open and hope flaring brightly in those azure eyes that I've come to love. "Katniss," he stutters, words for once coming difficult to the boy with the silver tongue. He kneels down in front of me and hesitantly takes my hand. Wordlessly, I squeeze his fingers and then let go long enough to retrieve a slice of buttered bread from the tray. I hold it in the flames, my eyes never leaving his. Once it's toasted to a golden buttery brown, I hold it in front of him and wait. He takes a bite, his lips grazing my fingers and my breath catches in my throat. He picks up the other slice and pushes it into the fire. The flame flares up briefly, illuminating his features in an orange-white glow. He smiles as he extends the toasted bread to me, his hands shaking ever so slightly. I slip my fingers around his wrist to hold it steady and then consume each morsel of the warm bread. He wipes the crumbs from my mouth before leaning forward to kiss me me gently.

"We just had a toasting?" He asked me haltingly. "Real or not real?"

"Real." I whisper back, my hands tenderly holding his face.

"You love me." He states rather than asks. Blue eyes dance in the lowering firelight as my cheeks flush scarlet.

"Real." I say again and laugh quietly at the look of triumph that flickers in his gaze.

He closes his eyes and savors the words. I can see the thoughts tumbling through his mind but give him his moment. It's one of the things that make him happy. I pull him to his feet and lead him to the back door. The moon is hanging low on the treetops giving everything a halo in the darkness. The snow has stopped falling but a million sparkles reflect the silvery light. He pulls me in tight and rests his chin on my shoulder as we survey the stillness of the white swathed lawn. His breath tickles my ear as he whispers, "I wish I could freeze this moment right here and live in it forever. Don't you?"

My breath catches as I turn just enough to meet his blissful gaze. I smile and let my heart take over. The word comes easily to my lips, much more so than I ever thought possible. I look at him standing tall and golden in the moonlight, my husband; my dandelion and give him the answer that I know he longs to hear. I smile as I whisper back, "Always."

The End

A/N Just a little piece of Peeta/Katniss fluff for those of us that like that sort of thing. Review if it pleases you. I'm always thrilled to get your thoughts and comments. Thank you for reading. Until next time, Salanderjade


	2. Always

Sparks Fly Part 2: Always

A/N Song inspiration for this one is "I Can't Make You Love Me" the Bonnie Raitt version…link is watch?v=7_SIfLzccbc… this one is set on the Victory Tour train….Peeta POV

_I Can't Make You Love Me (If You Don't)_

_I can't make you love me if you don't  
You can't make your heart feel something it won't  
Here in the dark in these final hours, I will lay down my heart  
And I'll feel the power but you won't. No, you won't  
Cause I can't make you love me if you don't.  
__

The train barrels through the dark carrying us back to District Twelve and the half-life that I've been living since coming home from the Games. We hardly see each other and I know it's my fault. Hurt pride and a burning heart is no excuse. I'm supposed to love her, supposed to keep up the 'star-crossed lovers' story that has captivated the Capital. I know what I'm supposed to do but I can't. Not anymore.

This tour has just underscored everything that is wrong. In front of the camera, we are in love. We laugh, we kiss, we plan for a future that before would have been my most wished for and treasured dream. Now, it suffocates me because I know that it's all a part of their Game. Not real. Those words ring in my head every time I take her in my arms. She doesn't love me the way that I love her. Not real. Would she fight for me? Absolutely. Would she risk everything to keep me safe? Yes. She's done it before and I have no doubt that she would do it again. Does she want to spend the rest of her life with me? No. No she doesn't. That fact breaks me into.

All of that runs through my head as I stand watching her. She's undone her braid in preparation for sleep. We've given up all pretenses of separate compartments. The first few nights I heard her screaming and kept to my bed clutching my pillow as I tried to tune out the sound of her agony. I couldn't hold out long and soon found myself at her side trying to keep her safe. After that, staying away wasn't an option. She needed me and I couldn't deny her. I love her.

I must make some kind of noise because her eyes find mine and she smiles. "You ready?" She asks. I nod and she reaches for the lamp, clicking it off and sliding underneath the blankets. I make my way to the bed and climb in beside her, hitting the overhead light on the way. Once there, I slide my arm underneath my pillow and turn onto my side trying to get comfortable. She waits until I'm settled then nestles next to me. Her legs intertwine with mine and her arm curls around my waist. I can't help myself. I thread my fingers with hers and kiss her forehead. Her sleepy voice trips my heart when I hear, "Good night, Peeta."

It doesn't take long before her breathing slows and deepens. Her head finds my shoulder and my face finds her hair. This is when I'm the most happy. These quiet times when the world is still and I have everything that I want in arm's reach. There's no room for doubt or confusion. There is no place for pride or sadness. These hours are what I live for, when she needs me and I can give her freely what I've wanted to all along.

It seems like only minutes have passed when I am awakened by her twisting and shifting against me. The nightmares don't come every night but they are fierce and unrelenting when they do. Her breath comes in short, sharp pants and a muffled whimper slips out. I touch her face and push her hair back. "Katniss, wake up." I whisper, stroking her arm and holding her close. "Wake up. You're okay. It's not real. Not real, Katniss."

Her eyes fly open in the dark, but it's not my face that she sees. I know what haunts her dreams. It's not unlike the images that plague mine. She sees the faces of those she has killed. I see her dying and am unable to stop it. She wakes up screaming. I wake up frozen. She continues to stare blindly into the blackened room, not responding as I try to bring her back to here and now. "Not real, Katniss. Please wake up. I'm here. I've got you." I whisper frantically, beginning to shake her shoulders. She finally blinks, becoming aware of me and tears fill her eyes and run down her face. I wipe them away carefully, dropping small soft kisses into her hair. "It's okay, Katniss. I've got you."

"Why won't they leave me alone?" she whispers. "Why can't we just go back to the lives we had before, Peeta? Why can't it ever be good again?"

My heart clinches at her words and I can't help but feel like what I give her isn't good enough. It will never be good enough. The ache fills me up, overflows, and drowns me but I stifle it and tamp it down. I will deal with her hurt, take on her burdens, and if there's time; then I'll deal with my own. I pull her in close and wrap her up as tightly as I can. "It will be good again, Katniss. It will. You have to believe that. You have to hold on to it." I tell her softly. "I'm here for as long as you need me. You never have to be alone. I'm here."

She sniffs quietly, taking my words in and turning them over. She reaches up and brushes my cheek, a butterfly kiss that's gone before it came. Then she turns away, hugging her pillow tightly as she slips back into sleep leaving me bereft and abandoned. "Stay with me." I whisper into the stillness.

My only reply is the rumble of the train as it roars through the miles taking us home.

End Part 2

A/N So I noticed that there was a few alerts on this story…didn't really plan to do another chapter but this one got in my head. Review if it pleases you….until next time….Salanderjade.


	3. Just a Kiss

Sparks Fly

A/N Out of a desperate need for fluff, this little chapter came about. The song for this one is by Lady Antebellum "Just a Kiss." The link in case you're interested is watch?v=v_yTphvyiPU.

Disclaimer: Obviously…I don't own the Hunger Games.

Part 3: Just a Kiss

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight  
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright  
I don't want to mess this thing up  
I don't want to push too far  
Just a shot in the dark that you just might  
be the one I've been waiting for my whole life  
So baby I'm alright with just a kiss goodnight  
__

I stand in the yard looking at the yellow primroses growing so proudly next to my house. They had been scraggly and downtrodden when he first dragged them in from the woods. I found it ironic that I identified with them not for the obvious connection with my sister, but that I too felt just as bruised and battered. Trapped in raw, scarred skin that didn't seem to fit anymore with hair that had seen better days, I was a shadow of the fiery girl that took the Capital and then the rest of Panem by storm. I was a ghost that dwelled in halls haunted by what once was and would never be. My roots had been torn up and my leaves scorched. My bloom had not only faded but the bud had failed to appear. There was no spring and winter stretched out bleak and endlessly before me. Until I heard that shovel. Until he burst back into my world like the sun after a long dark night.

Caught up in warmth and light, I couldn't stay there anymore. I craved it like I had morphling in the Capital. I wanted to feel again. I wanted to live. I wanted to know that after everything, there was still some good left to cling to. I didn't think it would be found in my backyard; shamefaced with stuttered explanations flowing from chapped lips and blue eyes looking lost and hopeful. Run to him or run and hide. Caught between two equally compelling and contradictory compulsions, I could only nod and flee. Tears flowed freely even as forgotten laughter bubbled up. Possibilities that seemed unthinkable just hours before now danced and teased. I closed my eyes and let them play out. I wanted it. Oh, how I wanted it. I wanted him. Standing here alone listening to the thump and thud of the turning earth, I felt something shift within me. The first green shoots unfurled and stretched for the light. My dandelion. My chance to begin anew. The delicious sensation filled me up and I reveled in it. I reached for it like a man in the desert reaches for water. I grabbed it and held on with everything I had.

This revelation wasn't soul shattering. The clocks didn't stop to mark the hour. It was the little details that mirrored my transformation. I got rid of President Snow's calling card. I took a bath and braided my hair. I got dressed and left my house, heading for the sanctuary of the woods. For the first time in a long time, I could breathe again. This first led to other firsts. Greasy Sae came in the morning and made breakfast while Peeta ambled in with a warm loaf and a hesitant smile.

Buttercup had inexplicably returned from District Thirteen, bringing with him new bouts of tears and memories. Eventually, we reached an understanding. I didn't drown him and he guarded me in the darkness when the demons come. I answer the phone when Dr. Aurelius calls and actually take his advice. Peeta and I start the memory book. The road back to life is hard and I stumble often. Seeing details that have grown hazy with time and emotional collapse come creeping back through Peeta's drawings and my words give me brief moments of peace. We keep busy. We have routines and structure. We make plans for an uncertain future. It's not perfect but it's real. It's exhilarating.

I mull these thoughts over as I gaze at the primroses. They are a visible reminder of the adjustments and adaptations that have gotten me to this moment. My train of thought is broken as I hear a familiar tread behind me. I hide a smile behind my hand. He will never be anything but loud. It's as certain now as it ever was that in this shifting, changing world; Peeta Mellark is and always will be noisy. That unwavering fact comforts me. I don't turn around to greet him. I let him place a gentle hand on my arm before my eyes dart up to find his. He smiles uncertainly, glancing briefly at the yellow blooms before finding my face. The relief is subtly present when I smile back. He waves a covered tray haphazardly and I laugh as he almost drops it in his enthusiasm. Pink cheeks suit him. I watch with interest as the line begins at his collar and makes its way upward before disappearing into the tangled blond curls that droop over his forehead. My hand moves unintentionally and pushes them backward. He looks surprised and then pleased. It's now my turn to flush uncomfortably under his knowing gaze.

"I brought cheese buns," he announces unnecessarily. "It's been a while since I made them. I didn't want to forget how."

I roll my eyes and my reply is mildly mocking. "You forget how to bake something. Please. Haymitch will give up white liquor first. We all know how likely that is to happen." A quiet snort of laughter is my reply. I liberate the tray from his questionable grasp and turn back the wrapping, snagging a bun before he catches on. His scolding look is precious and I attempt to look contrite but the bread is too good and it's clear that I'm not sorry. His resigned sigh is overly exaggerated as is my scowl. These little teasing moments have become as much a part of our routine as eating meals together. It's a little piece of normality that I savor. I pop the last bite of roll into my mouth and reach for the plate to grab a second helping. He laughs at my actions and then does the unthinkable. He holds the plate just beyond my reach and shakes his head. "Peeta," I say warningly. "Hand it over. I wasn't finished."

His blue eyes gleam playfully and he dangles the tray just out of reach. "Sorry," he retorts, amusement practically dripping in his tone. "You'll spoil your dinner. We can't have Sae's feelings hurt because you can't control yourself. You'll just have to wait."

I feel my lip quirk up, but the lure of another cheese bun goads me onward. I lunge toward him, my fingers just short of the plate when he pivots away. The sound of his laughter as he scurries toward the porch is infectious and I giggle as I sprint after him. He reaches the walk just steps ahead and doesn't slow as he bounds into the front door. We crash together just as he pulls it open and we fall in a tangled heap into the foyer. The tray of cheese buns fall unceremoniously to the floor as he lets them go in order to break our fall. His breath escapes him in a whoosh as his back thuds onto the tiles and again as I sprawl on top of him. My hands come up to cushion my fall and find purchase on his chest. His eyes are wide with both the effort to breathe and the fact that I've tackled him. He stares at me silently, his chest moving rapidly as he fights for air. I meet his gaze just as intently. My own breathing is labored, whether from our tussle or the unexpected closeness isn't clear. All I know is that I can't look away and he shows no signs of quitting either.

Our inadvertent staring match is interrupted when Sae comes out of the kitchen to investigate all the noise. Her mouth gapes open when she spies us jumbled together and making no efforts to remedy the situation. She bites back a smile and comments, "Supper is ready. It's on the table but if you'd rather have your plates on the floor, far be it for me to stop you." She chuckles and ducks back into the kitchen. Matching blushes paint our cheeks and we stand up, needlessly adjusting clothing and avoiding each other's questioning looks. He motions for me to precede him into the kitchen and bends to retrieve the battered tray before following me to the table.

Sae is still tittering softly as she dishes up bowls of stew and greens. Peeta removes the wrapping from the cheese buns and sets them on the table. He then heads to the sideboard and grabs the glasses that she had already laid out. Sae thanks him quietly and then sends him after the jug of tea that had been brewing all day in the sun. He clatters back into the house and plunks it on the table. Sae has cut up lemons which are still a rare commodity and placed the sugar bowl close by. I add a few cubes to my glass along with a wedge of the tangy fruit. Peeta, I notice, foregoes the sugar but helps himself to several slices. He squeezes the juice into the tea and lays the remains on the edge of his plate. I raise my brows in silent question. He shrugs and sips his tea, a pleased smirk curling his lips as I reach for another cheese bun. He shakes his head and then digs into his stew. I give him a glare on general principle. Why does he bring them over if he doesn't want me to eat them? I absently polish off the remaining few bites and surreptitiously eye the tray.

My hand is reaching for another when his blue gaze pins me in place. I pull my hand away hurriedly and hide it underneath the table. His grin lights up his whole face as he picks up a bun and plunks it gleefully on the edge of my bowl. I mutter my thanks but smile back and pick it up, tearing small bits off to dunk into the stew. He watches me, smiling all the while until Sae admonishes him to eat before it gets cold. He bends studiously to his plate but I still see the furtive glances he tosses my way. I concentrate on my bowl and savor each and every bite while avoiding any evident looks in his direction. Sae huffs out a laugh but keeps her thoughts to herself. We therefore finish the meal in a companionable silence.

Sae cleans up the few dishes in record time with Peeta's help. She makes a few preparations for the breakfast the following morning and then bids us goodnight. Her gray eyes swing approvingly from one to the other. She gives a tiny grin and then comments to Peeta, "There are fresh berries in the icebox. Some muffins would be mighty fine tomorrow, boy." He quickly agrees and with one final look, she bids us goodnight. Peeta watches until the door swings closed behind her and then climbs reluctantly to his feet. He retrieves his tray from the rack and then grudgingly retraces Sae's steps to the egress. He looks at me searchingly, casually flicks a hand in passing, and then turns to leave.

"Wait," the word comes unbidden to my lips. He pauses, looking back curiously as I stand timidly in front of the sofa. "You don't have to go yet. I mean, if you want to stay longer then you're welcome." I push my braid back out of my way and gesture for him to return. "It's early. Why don't you…" my voice trails off doubtfully. I don't quite know what I'm asking. I just know that I don't want him to go anywhere. He meets my eyes, looking for some hint or reason for this unexpected request. An unbearable minute passes before he diffidently closes the door and makes his way to the couch. He sits down on one of the corner cushions and looks at me expectantly. Not knowing quite how to proceed, I busy myself with arranging the kindling in the grate and then hunting for the matches to light the blaze. After several attempts, I manage to get a decent spark and soon the fire is flickering merrily, casting dancing shadows about the room. I head for the couch but instead of sitting down; I curl my legs up and sink to the floor, my back resting solidly against the seat. Peeta sighs as I accidently nudge his knee with my shoulder. He slides over even as I maneuver to a new spot. We end up with a couple of inches between us and silence falls once more as we stare unblinkingly into the fire.

Something gently grazes my hair and I tilt my head to maintain the featherlike contact. Between the wavering warmth and soft touches, it's no wonder that my eyes begin to close. Finding a solid surface, I lean my temple against it and let myself drift. I haven't been this relaxed since I don't remember when. It's a welcome change and I don't want to waste it. I hear Peeta's swift intake of breath and my pillow bounces slightly under my head. This disturbs my restful moment and I come to, realizing finally that my head rest was none other than his knee. I freeze momentarily, unsure how to move forward from this bewildering event. Perversely, I decide that it doesn't matter. I don't want him to leave and his presence calms me. With that decision made, I deliberately snuggle into his leg and his hand slips gently back into my hair. It seems like hours pass, me quietly watching the snapping logs and glowing sparks and him absently toying with my braid. Finally, I hear a drawn out exhalation and he pats my shoulder before pulling his hand away. I look up and see him watching me, a wistful expression on his face. He smiles and then moves to rise. My hand on his leg stays the motion. "Stay with me," I breathe softly. His brow furrows and the pensive expression morphs into curiosity. "Stay," I repeat and he bites his lip as he considers his response.

The longing that flashes swiftly in his eyes answers my request before he softly replies, "Always." That word had bound us together since before the Quarter Quell. I had been under the influence of sleep syrup and apprehension the first time he uttered that word like a vow. The next time had been in response to a desperate plea while trekking through the gutters. He fought with everything he had to stay in the moment and not lose himself to a Capital created madness. This time we were both awake and aware with no reason other than mutual want to stand in our way. He scoots back into the cushions and toes off his boots, eyes never leaving mine. He shifts until he is stretched out full length. My hand moves from his knee to the cuff of his pants and I look at him silently, my question obvious. "It's okay," he whispers. "I'm comfortable with it on." I nod my assent and resume my original position, back against the couch eyes on the guttering embers.

His warm breath fans the short strands that curl around my face. I smile slightly as his lips touch my temple. I keep my eyes locked on the fire but turn toward him, giving him leave to continue in whatever way he wants. Each graze, each trace, every little movement that he makes unfurls one more skein of heat in my belly. How I can be relaxed and on edge at the same time escapes me. He moves in slow motion: skimming my jaw, brushing my cheek, gliding down my neck and hovering just over my ear. Teasing just enough to fan the flames higher but never pushing too far. Never crossing the line. When my shaky control snaps, it collapses like the flame scorched logs. A flash of sparks, a wobbling tongue of fire, a quivering silence. He pulls away and examines my features, looking for the smallest hint of uncertainty. He doesn't find it or his determination is faltering as much as mine. Whatever the reason, when he leans in again; my lips are right there to meet him.

The first touch is unsure. It falters and stops. A brief pressure, a fan of warm breath. A pause to regroup or pull away. I don't move but stay right where he left me. The slight flash of blue gives him away. I push into him slightly, forcing the kiss to deepen before pulling back. I give him the same option that he gave me. The smile curving his mouth under mine is all the answer I need. He breathes my name against my lips and angles his head. Mine tilts in response and we slide together as if meant to be. His hollows fit my curves and vice versa. Perfectly aligned, our mouths tangle together. Nibbling, grazing, sliding, touching. Stopping. Eyes meeting then closing, hands wandering. Closer and closer until no space remains.

I realize then that this is it. This is what I need to survive. Not Gale's fire, drive and intensity. But Peeta's unselfish and unwavering love, his unexpected heat, his hands, his eyes, and his heart. I need him like I need air. I need.

He pulls away finally, his expression wavering between uncertainty and awe. Whatever lines and boundaries that have existed between us, they're gone. We've taken the first steps. No matter where this road takes us, we'll go there together.

End Part Three

A/N I love fluff. I really needed this! I hope that this fluffy little interlude pleases you. Read and review. Until next time, Salanderjade.


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